The End
by Daniel Goldberg
Summary: An alternative to the standard ending of Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne. Max deserved a better ending than that, and the alternative ending was a bit too cocked up for my tastes. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it.


For clarity's sake, this fic takes place instead of the standard ending of Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne. Please R&R!

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The End  
A Max Payne 2: The Fall Of Max Payne Fanfic  
By Daniel Goldberg

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The end; The finishing scene; The last moments the viewer sees of the viewed. All stories end in such a fashion, the words floating along the screen before the credits roll, or printed stiffly in the pages of the book, before the cover is shut. All stories must end, and mine is no different.

But it will not be tonight that my story ends. And it won't be tonight that hers does, either.

Her lips shuddered as she let out a breath. It may have been a sigh, induced by the meeting of our lips moments before, or a death rattle, induced by the bullet now lodged somewhere beyond her ribcage.

She closed her eyes when we kissed, probably wanting to feel it completely, one last time, and now, as I watched her, looked completely dead. If my lips weren't still so close to hers, as I hesitated whether to touch them to mine again, one last time, I would have probably missed the fact that her breath, though shallow, ragged and uneven, still existed.

Most detectives never bother to learn basic medical skills like First Aid or CPR. By the time we get to the crime scene, no one is around to need them; our 'clients' are usually dead before we are even called. For one of the very few times in my life after the death of my family, I was glad that my life and the skills it led me to acquire were not like that of 'most detectives'. If I didn't know to lean her head back, she would have probably suffocated within minutes by her tongue falling into the back of her throat, blocking her trachea like so many cars on the Brooklyn Bridge during rush hour.

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The blazing sirens of the police cars and the ambulances were nothing more than a distant echo as I sat in that waiting room, feeling like I was sitting outside the courtroom, waiting for the jury to come back with their verdict; was I to pay for all of the sins in my past, even those not made by me, or not?

No one should have to be in that position even once, feeling like you're walking towards the electric chair, and hoping against all hope that the call would come in that you were pardoned. I had been in that position a few times before. It never got any easier.

The doctor came out finally, saying that she was stable. She had lost a lot of blood, and would have to be sedated, kept unconscious, for a few days yet, before they could attempt to awaken her without risking any of her organs – any of her. For now, he said, she was in a coma. I took the good news with the bad, like the disgustingly bitter pill you take, knowing, or at least hoping, that it will take away the pain, eventually. Mona was alive, and I really couldn't ask for much more right then.

Jim Bravura's temporary substitute, who was put in the job while Bravura was in the hospital, taking care of his own gunshot wounds, had asked me to give him a full report on what happened during my investigation. Every time I wrote down her name, my fingers clenched. When the third pen broke, I was forced to type it down on the computer. I had to leave out certain parts, like any direct references to the Inner Circle, just to be safe, but I didn't sugarcoat anything beyond that.

Not even my sins of this investigation; cooperating with Mona, even if she was innocent of the crimes she had been charged with, and killing Winterson, even if she was probably going to kill me instead. I was guilty of aiding and abetting a fugitive, as well as manslaughter, and, though I wasn't exactly proud of it, I did not regret a single thing I had to do along the way. Except maybe playing bodyguard to Captain Baseball-Bat Vinnie – that's one thing I wouldn't do again, if I could help it any.

I didn't do jail time, but my badge and gun were stripped from me. I didn't care much about it – I already knew it was coming. But there was another reason; A black hole deep in my soul that sucked out the caring for anyone and anything… besides Mona.

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I had a dream, about my wife. She was dead, but she was smiling. We were standing in a big room, painted the color of pale, lifeless skin meeting sunlight for the first time in ages; me, my wife… and Mona. Mona floated closer to me, and I closer to her, as though some god had decided that the distant between us was too great, and simply reduced the number of inches between us, leaving the world to do the rest.

And she smiled still.

She told me it was alright, that I had lived alone, or trying to be alone, for too long already. She said that I finally found someone else, and there was nothing wrong about that. She said it was alright for me to love Mona. And, saying that, she faded out of my view.

Mona finally woke up the following morning, smiling at me.

I had a dream of my wife. She was dead, but it was alright.

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Most probably, this is the end of this fic. If I get enough positive feedback and go into the right mindset, there may be a few more chapters in me.


End file.
